


Favorite person in the world

by Apollorising



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-07
Updated: 2018-04-07
Packaged: 2019-04-19 14:36:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14239404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Apollorising/pseuds/Apollorising
Summary: Clint Barton may be down but is he out?Clint questions his place on the team after an injury puts a hold on his archery. Can Natasha make him feel better?





	Favorite person in the world

Clint raised his bow, took a deep breath, drew his arrow, and, grimacing through the pain radiating from the broken bones in his wrist and hand, released the arrow. Too far to the left. Due to his injury he was shooting slower than usual. He took another deep breath, readying himself for the pain and drew another arrow. He held it steady for several moments, breathing heavily through gritted teeth, but before he could release this one, something tore a larger hole in his paper target. He turned around to see Natasha standing to the side, lowering her gun. 

“Tashaaaaa,” he groaned before training his eyes on her lips awaiting her response. 

“You were taking too long. I knew you wouldn’t leave the cast on for even one day, means I won the bet, Tony owes me 20 bucks.”

“I don’t like casts.”

“Do you not like hearing aids either?”

“How did you know?”

“You haven’t taken your eyes off my lips since we started this conversation, also I called your name several times before that,” She answered pointing to the bullet hole in the target. 

Clint’s only response was to call her a rude name in sign language before turning and walking out.

“I know what that means,” She called after him knowing he couldn’t hear her. 

 

On his way back to his room he bumped into Bruce, who was less than thrilled to see the archer cast-less. Clint pulled one hearing aid out of his pocket (knowing full well how Tony would react if he knew the archer was keeping them there) and used his unbroken right hand to slip it into his left ear. It fit completely inside his ear, making it incredibly difficult to remove, but also allowing his comm to fit over his ear and making it harder for villains to see, and exploit. 

 

“Really Clint, you’ve already removed the cast! And you were using that hand!” Bruce exclaimed. Clint didn’t respond. “Are you at least taking the painkillers they gave you?”

“They make me nauseous,” he replied sheepishly.

“At least wrap your hand in a bandage to keep it somewhat stabilized. Its never going to heal if you don’t let it, and please take the pain killers”

“Fine but if I puke I’m blaming you,” Clint joked.

“Clint,” Bruce spoke in a voice that said quite clearly that he was not interested in any more of Clint’s usual remarks, so Clint offered none. He also didn’t stick around long enough to get more of a lecture. 

 

Once he’d arrived in his room, he placed his bow and quiver in the closet and kicked off the old, worn out shoes he’d slipped on, and collapsed on his bed. Natasha slipped into the room, closing the door that he’d left open. 

“You okay Clint,” she asked?

“Hurts,” He whined, his voice betraying how close he was to crying. 

“I know you don’t like taking pills, but will you please consider it,” she paused “For me.” Clint didn’t say anything, but he sat up in bed and allowed Natasha to bring the bottle of pills and a glass of water he’d left on the desk. While he swallowed two of the pills from the bottle, Natasha climbed into the bed next to him. His bed was in the corner of the room, so to stay on his uninjured side, or rather, his less injured side (no part of Clint was ever completely uninjured) she had to slide across the bed. Clint laid back down and Natasha rested her head on his chest. It wasn’t long before they both fell asleep. 

Clint awoke to find his prediction had come true. He was nauseous, his head was pounding, and his hand still hurt. He tried to take a sip of water but immediately gagged, then decided to slide the trash can a little bit closer to the bed. He felt awful, physically, he was sick and in pain, but he also felt his depression creeping in. He sat upright and cross-legged in bed, and with his elbows on his knees and his face buried in his hands (the weight resting on his right hand) he began to cry. 

He hadn’t intended to wake Natasha, but she was awoken by the sound of him crying. She sat up quickly. 

“Clint, baby, what’s wrong? Are you in pain,” She noticed the trash can pulled close to the bed, “Are you sick?” Clint nodded yes, hoping she’d be satisfied. “That’s not why your crying is it?” This time he nodded no, his desire not to lie to Natasha beating out his instinct to hide his emotions. “What is it baby, talk to me,” as she spoke she wrapped one arm gently around his shoulders.” 

Clint tried to somewhat compose himself before he spoke, but he was less than successful. “Without m-my bow hand I- I’m useless.”

“Clint, you’re more than your bow, you’re an avenger.”

“I’m an avenger because of my bow Natasha, without I’m nothing. Steve without the serum, Tony without the armor, Bruce without the big guy.”

“Baby, without the Hulk, Bruce is still a brilliant scientist. Without the armor, Tony is still a genius. And without the serum Steve is still a good man and great leader. And you? You’re still my favorite person in the world.”


End file.
